


Once More With Feeling

by Sioux



Series: Once More With Feeling [1]
Category: MIT - Fandom, The Bill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioux/pseuds/Sioux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover with The Bill and MIT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More With Feeling

“Sierra Echo from four, four, three.”  
“Receiving four, four, three,” Petersen replied.  
“Sarge, Sergeant Gilmore asked me to relay, he’s in a dead spot; can you get an ambulance to Back Syke Lane. He says not to rush and can you inform MIT.”  
“MIT? Do we have an id, PC Haq?”  
“Yes Sarge. It’s Watson. Sergeant Gilmore thinks he’s been dead since last night, his clothes are still damp from the rain storm.”  
Sergeant Petersen pursed his lips in pity for the wasted life of the fifteen year old boy, Tim Watson.  
A feeling of shock shivered through the other two officers in the CAD room. Gilmore and Haq had been on the trail of a suspected burglar and rent boy, they hadn’t expected him to turn up dead.  
“Message received and understood.” He sighed loudly and took off his headset. “WPC Reid, inform Inspector Davies, I’ll go and tell the Super.”  
“Sir,” Reid replied.  
Wearily Petersen plodded off to Superintendent Grierson’s office.

“Ambulance and MIT are on their way,” Haq told Gilmore, carefully picking his way through the litter.  
Craig was still crouched down looking at the body. The boy, Tim, was lying on his side between the middle one of three big dumpsters and the wall. The lane was thick with trash which had blown out of the tops of the garbage holders and everything was wet from the heavy rain of the evening before. Craig knew from experience that any decent evidence would have been washed away in the downpour. He could still see traces of vomit on the floor in front of Tim’s mouth but his face and lips looked quite clean. Haq and himself had disturbed the scene by pulling back the dumpster to get at the body, hoping that he may still be alive. But as soon as Craig’s fingertips had touched his neck searching for a pulse he knew by the ice cold temperature of his skin, and the bloodless complexion he had been dead for some hours.  
Haq took a quick look at the body then turned his head away, fidgeting and stamping his feet. Gilmore looked up at the young copper then stood up.  
Haq took a quick look at his superior’s face then looked away again.  
“Do you ever get used to this Sarge?”  
“Used to what?”  
“Dead bodies.”  
Gilmore’s lips turned up in a mirthless smile.  
“If you ever do get used to it, you’re in the wrong job, Haq.”  
“Sir?”  
“He’s still some mother’s son.”  
Haq took another fast look at the body.  
“He looks about twelve years old, Sarge.”  
Gilmore glanced at Haq and refrained from saying he didn’t appear much older. They both knew Watson’s record; a string of arrests but no convictions for petty theft, burglary and also suspected of prostitution. Unfortunately the last house he had turned over had been fitted with CCTV and Watson had been spotted leaving the premises of a member of parliament, a backbencher of the government to be precise. 

Much to Haq’s consternation it seemed to take hours for an ambulance and the Murder Investigation Team to arrive then both arrived at nearly the same time.  
A bossy woman strode over from a squad car and immediately took over. She prevented the ambulance men from touching the body then she turned her attention to Craig.  
“Sergeant Gilmore? I’m DI Friend this is DC MacManus and DC Webb.” She motioned to a woman and a young, blonde man.  
The blond man smiled and said,  
“Hello Sarge, nice to see you again,” and held out his hand.  
Craig returned the smile and the handshake, which shocked Haq, he hadn’t thought Gilmore’s facial muscles could move in that way.  
“Nice to see you again, Mickey.”  
DI Friend waited for an explanation.  
“We worked together when we were both stationed at Sunhill, Ma’am,” Mickey replied for them both.  
She nodded then continued,  
“I’d like you both to give DC Webb your statements then we can take over from here. We’ll also need any background information you have on this case. Pass it on to Mickey.”  
After giving her orders to Haq and Gilmore she turned to Webb.  
“See if you can get space to use as an incident room at Park Rise. Let me know when and where we can set up.”  
Abruptly dismissing them all, she turned back to the female DC. Putting on their gloves, both women strode forward towards where Watson’s body still lay.  
“Do you want to follow us back to the nick?” Craig asked. “Or do you want to grab a lift in with us?”  
“I’ll grab a lift please Craig.”  
Together all three trooped back to where they’d left the police car.  
Haq thought DC Webb seemed like a nice bloke. He was certainly chatting away to Gilmore in a friendly fashion. Haq pricked up his ears when he heard Webb ask how long it had taken Gilmore to get over his beating. That was news to him, he didn’t know Gilmore had been injured in the line of duty. Something to pass on to the lads at refs. Gilmore was such a closed mouthed git all they really knew about him was he was a good, if austere, Sergeant and that he was gay. And ‘gay’ certainly did not describe his temperament.

The arrival of MIT at Park Rise turned the place upside down. Webb found the conference room, just opposite Gilmore’s office, and immediately purloined it for the team. Within a day it felt like MIT had always been there. Mickey then took both Haq’s and Gilmore’s statements, thanked them and then that was the last time Haq spoke to the blonde man for several weeks.

Craig was in a prime position to see how the murder investigation team worked together, he didn’t even have to leave his office to do so. They did seem to work very long hours; checking through statements, looking into known associates of both victim and the man he had burgled, the Right Honourable Giles Smethirst, MP.  
Mr Smethirst presented himself at Park Rise front desk in the capacity of someone who wanted to be seen to be doing his civic duty. As soon as Craig saw the man he felt the hackles go up on the back of his neck. He was far too smooth and anxious to please.  
After the interview with Mr Smethirst, which DI Friend had conducted and Mickey had sat in on, he and DI Friend passed his office door. Mickey turned and smiled at Craig, whilst still listening to his ‘guvnor’ give him orders. From the snippets of conversation which Craig heard as they passed, DI Friend didn’t trust the MP either, she was ordering a full background check. Whatever else went on in MIT Craig now knew a copper’s nose counted for something.

Way past the end of his shift Craig was still trying to make inroads in his out of control inbox. Across in the dimly lit conference room he could see Mickey going through a similarly piled high tray of papers as well. Life in MIT seemed to have made DC Webb into a studious man, Craig reflected. When they worked at Sunhill he didn’t have him down as a man for paperwork but these days he seemed to do as much of it as Craig did. Sighing, Craig turned his attention back to his own inbox, which seemed to have been happily breeding in the few seconds his attention had wandered. Deciding a coffee might help matters along he got up.  
“Mickey, want a coffee?” he shouted.  
“What? Oh yeah Sarge, love one.”  
Craig sauntered down to the canteen and picked up two mugs. It tasted marginally better than the stuff which came out of the machines. Carefully carrying the two mugs he walked into the conference room and plonked one of them down at Mickey’s elbow. To his surprise Mickey leapt out of his chair away from the noise then stood, wide-eyed and staring at Craig.  
“Mickey? Are you alright?”  
“Jeez Sarge! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”  
Looking at the colour of his face and the way his hands had begun to shake Craig could believe it. He reached out to steady the other man and was again very surprised and a little hurt, when Mickey flinched away from him. Taking a step back Craig said carefully,  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”  
Then he walked across to his own office and shut the door. He put his mug down and looked at the desk without really seeing it. He hadn’t had Mickey down for a homophobe, the man had always been fine with him when they were both at Sunhill. The way he had jumped out of his seat was such an over the top reaction. Shrugging off the unpleasantness, it had happened before and would, no doubt, happen again, Craig got on with his work.

For the next three days Craig kept as much out of the way of Mickey Webb as he possibly could. If they met in the corridor he would deliberately let Mickey go past first, if they met in the canteen he simply acknowledged him and then walked away. The look of intense sadness he saw in Webb’s eyes was another surprise. He was trying to keep out of his way, so why this look of hurt on his face? Impatiently dismissing DC Webb from his mind he applied himself to getting his relief out onto the streets of London.  
For a change it was a quiet day. He saw the last of his relief leave the nick by six thirty, most of then heading out to the ‘King’s Head’ for a couple of pints before going home. Haq, Wedgewood and Simmons tried their best to get him to go with them, but he refused, pleading an overfull in-tray. He ignored Haq’s whisper of,  
“Doesn’t he have a home to go to?”  
A couple of hours later, as Craig was contemplating the attractions of home and food, there was a knock on his door.  
“Come,” he said, without lifting his head.  
“You got a minute, Sarge?”  
Craig’s head jerked up when he heard Mickey Webb’s voice.  
For a second they regarded each other before Craig nodded and leaned back in his chair. Mickey shut the door properly and came further into the office. With his hands jammed into his trouser pockets, his tie askew, collar undone and his jacket unfastened he looked nervous and fidgety.  
“Ummm, I wanted to apologise, for the other night,” Mickey began, not looking at Craig, instead walking over and looking through the window which gave a view of the compound. The orange lights reflected on his face giving him strange coloured skin and hair.  
“No need,” Craig replied shortly going back to finishing off the last report.  
“Yeah there is. You think I reacted like that because you’re gay, don’t you?”  
“That’s usually the reason for a reaction like yours. What else would it be?” Craig asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  
“’Cos you’re a bloke.”  
Craig stopped writing and put down his pen.  
“What?” Completely confused. “You nearly jumped out of your skin because I’m a man?”  
Mickey smiled at his reflection in the window.  
“Gossip hasn’t followed me this far, then?”  
“I don’t listen to gossip!” Craig replied sharply. “I prefer to make my own judgements.”  
“Why do you think I left Sunhill?”  
“Because you managed to get a place in MIT?”  
“Not exactly. That came after I left. I got raped by a suspect I was chasing. That’s why I had to leave Sunhill, the bastard told everyone.”  
Craig was speechless.  
“I didn’t jump out of my skin because you’re gay. I still get nervous if any bloke creeps up behind me, gay or straight.”  
“Mickey I’m sorry. I had no idea….”  
Mickey turned away from the window and held up his hand.  
“Not looking for sympathy, just wanted you to know. I want us to go back to how we were. I don’t like being handled with kid gloves.”  
Craig smiled.  
“OK.”  
“You nearly finished?”  
“Nearly. Why?”  
“You want to come out for a pint?”

Mickey let Craig choose the pub, trusting his judgement. It was dim and calm enough to allow them to get a table. Slowly the conversation worked around to Mickey’s assault. As he told Craig the full story he never once lifted his head from the beer mat he was systematically destroying. When he’d finished both men were silent.  
“I can’t imagine what you went through, Mickey.”  
“Why should you? You don’t look like you’re into rough stuff.”  
Craig grinned.  
“No, I’m not.”  
Mickey’s smile faded as his gazed fixed on two young men in a dark corner of the pub. They were obviously more than close friends by the way they were staring into each other’s eyes. One of the men was stroking his companion’s hand. Even though that was the extent of their physical contact their affection for each other came across very strongly.  
“We can go somewhere else if that is bothering you,” Craig said, tracking to where Mickey was looking.  
Mickey shook his head.  
“It doesn’t bother me. Just wondering what it’s like. You know, to have a bloke touch you with affection and not…,” his voice trailed away, but the unspoken end of the sentence hung between them.  
“Mickey, rape isn’t about lust or sex…”  
“I know, it’s about power. Been through all that with my counsellor. Still…..”  
“Still what?”  
“What’s it like, with another bloke?”  
Craig squirmed a bit. Mickey was drinking a lot and quickly though he was still coherent. Craig was also uncomfortable discussing his sex life with Mickey but at the same time he could appreciate why he was asking the questions.  
“Well, probably not too different from when you pick up a woman.”  
“Buying drinks, wondering if she’ll put out or just go off with her mates…”  
“Maybe less uncertainty then,” Craig smiled.  
Mickey grinned back.  
“Sounds a lot more straightforward to me.”  
“Well I think you wouldn’t have to worry if you went and spoke to the brunette in the red top,” Craig said softly. The lady in question had been making her interest in Mickey pretty obvious.  
Mickey looked down at the table and smiled.  
“The mind is up for it, but the body doesn’t want to cooperate, most times,” he replied softly. “Can make one-night stands more of a minefield than they already are.”  
Craig appreciated the point.  
“Can I get you another?” Mickey asked.

By the time the barman was calling time, Mickey was well oiled. Deciding that it was incumbent on him to make sure Mickey got home alright, Craig got them both into a taxi. When he realised that Mickey had a flat on the third floor he groaned silently to himself. Paying off the driver he more or less pushed his inebriated colleague up the stairs and to his front door. Taking the keys himself he opened the door and pulled him inside. Propping him against the wall, Craig shut the door.  
“Thanks Craig,” Mickey slurred then giggled softly.  
“It’s OK Mickey,” Craig replied turning back to him.  
Mickey lifted a hand and patted his face.  
“You’re a really nice bloke,” Mickey said seriously. Or at least that’s what Craig thought it was.  
“And you’ve had a bit much to drink.”  
Mickey’s attention was elsewhere by this point. Craig was pretty amazed at suddenly how coordinated Mickey became when he leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, drew back then kissed him again, his arms around his neck, this time a more prolonged contact.  
For few seconds Craig forgot himself and responded to the gentle pressure against his mouth. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed him like this. Reason asserted itself and he carefully pushed Mickey back against the wall. Mickey didn’t take the hint and tried again.  
“Mickey, come on, knock it off. You’re not gay.”  
“How do you know?” Mickey asked.  
“I think I’d’ve worked it out by now,” Craig replied.  
“Not pinged your gaydar then?”  
“No!”  
Mickey stroked the side of Craig’s face.  
“Come on Craig. A one-night stand, show me what it can be like.”  
Craig was sorely tempted. He hadn’t shared a bed for longer than he cared to remember, and now, here he was, getting it offered on a plate. Regretfully he replied,  
“It wouldn’t be a one-night stand, DC Webb, it would be me taking advantage of you. You’re drunk.”  
“I know what I’m doing,” Mickey whispered.  
Craig shook his head.  
“Not tonight, Josephine.”  
He slung an arm around Mickey’s waist and guided him to his bedroom, got him onto the bed and took his shoes off. By the time he had covered him with the duvet Mickey was almost asleep. Quietly he turned the lights off and let himself out.

The next morning a very pale faced DC Webb, sporting dark glasses, sneaked quietly into the nick passing Sergeant Gilmore on the way.  
“Good morning DC Webb,” Craig said loudly.  
“Morning Sarge,” Mickey whispered back, scuttling gratefully into the dim room he was using.  
The grin on Craig’s face as he went into parade was truly alarming to those who witnessed it.

Mickey’s lack of use was noted by DI Friend but she decided to ignore it, especially in view of the fact she had a meeting with her DCI, Malcolm Savage, about the case. The rest of the team were investigating another murder and possible future security problem as well as the murder of Watson. A House of Commons researcher, Bernard Byrne, had been found dead a day after Watson. There had also been a quantity of Ecstasy tablets found on him, of the same type which had killed Tim Watson. Byrne had also died of an overdose of the same tablets.

As the morning wore on and Mickey managed to get some food and coffee inside him he started to feel better. The more he looked at the evidence they had gathered the more he was sure they were missing something. He had the pathologist’s report which indicated extensive bruising around Watson’s mouth, consistent with being forced to swallow the drugs which killed him. There was also evidence that Watson had had anal intercourse, several times, prior to his death. No evidence of rape but neither were there any traces of DNA making it clear that either one man or several men had all worn condoms. This was also consistent with how Watson sometimes made money, as a rent boy, but he didn’t usually work the streets, which meant there was a pimp somewhere in the background. A pimp they hadn’t yet got a name for. Neither had they managed to catch up with the man Watson was sometimes known to share a flat with, one James Andrew Haddon. They did have an address on file but that had turned out to be months out of date. Mickey was now, more than ever certain, that finding Haddon would prove to be the key to unravelling what happened to Watson. Thoughtfully tapping the name on the file in front of him he turned his attention to his computer screen. Logging in, he began to search for a list of known associates for Haddon and any of which tied in with Watson, Byrne plus Giles Smethirst, MP. Like Gilmore, and Friend, as soon as Mickey had met Mr Smethirst he knew there was something fishy about the bloke.

Craig’s easy day had turned into a monster. Sergeant Felman who was due to be on custody had been taken ill with food poisoning which left them a man down, so Craig spent his day trying to run the relief and keep up with custody as well. When Felman’s relief turned up, thankfully early, for his shift, Craig breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his office. On his way past he saw Mickey staring thoughtfully at the board which had been set up in the conference room. Checking carefully to make sure there was no-one else in the room he trod heavily inside.  
Mickey looked round and smiled.  
“Hi Craig.”  
“Mickey. Any leads as yet?”  
“No leads exactly.”  
“Where’s the rest of the team?”  
“Off chasing any leads on Bernie Byrne’s murder. He had a bag full of the same E’s on him that killed Watson.”  
“Byrne?”  
“House of Commons researcher.”  
“Is Smethirst involved?”  
“I’d put money on it, but haven’t any proof. What does a rent boy, an MP, a House of Commons researcher and a known associate of the rent boy have in common?” Mickey asked.  
“So far, it looks like a quantity of E’s, two dead bodies and some CCTV footage.”  
“Not much to go on,” Mickey replied, downcast.  
The telephone on his desk rang. He picked it up and spoke briefly into the receiver whilst Craig took a leisurely look at the rogues gallery Mickey had spent the day getting together and had stuck up on the board.  
Mickey put the ‘phone down as Craig stopped in front of one of the faces.  
“DI Friend would like a breakfast meeting with me at six am to review progress. Who the hell eats breakfast at six?”  
“Me, if I get chance,” Craig replied, deadpan. “I know him,” he continued tapping a mugshot.  
“Yeah? Where from?”  
“My unexpected stint in custody this afternoon. He’s downstairs in lock-up, got arrested for possession. He was trying to block up the toilets in the Duck and Grouse on Webber Road, with a big bag of E’s.”  
“What?”  
Craig shrugged.  
Mickey’s face lit up. He leaned forward, gave Craig a big sloppy kiss on the lips and yelled at the top if his voice,  
“Sarge, I luv ya!” as he rushed out of the conference room.

A few hours later, Mickey bounded up the stairs with a grin on his face that could have lit up the High Street. He bumped into Craig who was just leaving for the night.  
“Good result?”  
“Not yet, but definitely getting there. Thanks for the info Sarge, just what we wanted. Had a word with Viv and Malc as well, they asked me to pass on their thanks as well.”  
“I only told you Max Brown was downstairs in lock-up!” Craig protested.  
“Yeah, but that meant I could get the E’s down to forensics for analysis and the results are looking like a match for the ones which killed Watson and Byrne. Plus, Brown is a known associate of Haddon’s and now we have him in the picture for Watson, possibly Byrne as well.”  
“Good day, then. Well done Mickey.”  
“Couldn’t have done it without you. You eaten yet, or are you going straight home?”  
“Was intending to go home but, yeah, I’m hungry.”  
“I can get us a meal on expenses, is there anywhere half decent around here we could eat?”  
“There’s a couple of takeaways but not much where you’d like to sit down and eat,” Craig said, racking his brains for the nearest late night restaurant.  
Mickey gave him a cheeky look before saying,  
“What about near your gaf? Or is there someone waiting for you?”  
Craig gave him a pursed lip look which then degenerated into a smile.  
“No, there’s no-one waiting but there is a decent little place a couple of streets away, ‘The Karachi Garden’.”  
“Sounds good to me.”

So, three quarters of an hour later, both Craig and Mickey had just finished ordering their food and beer at the Craig’s local Indian Restaurant.  
They spent the time talking softly together about the case. As it was a quiet night there was no-one nearby to overhear them. Once their starters arrived they were too busy taking the edge off their appetites to speak further until they had finished.  
“You really think Smethirst is involved with Haddon and Watson?” Craig asked quietly.  
“Yeah, but I’m not sure how. Don’t know if Watson and Haddon were dealing drugs to Smethirst or if they were just trying to rip him off.”  
“What’s Smethirst’s background?”  
“The nice little political marriage took place a couple of years ago. The political wife lives in the constituency dealing with the voters there whilst he lives down here doing whatever they do in Parliament.”  
“Interesting lifestyle,” Craig remarked.  
“Nice work if you can get it. A nice house in a good part of town, pay a peppercorn rent, lots of posh nosh out and bob’s yer uncle.”  
“Even a backbencher?”  
“An up and coming backbencher, according to Viv and her sources.”  
Craig raised his eyebrows, unable to say more as the waiter was clearing away their starters and setting out warm plates for their main course.  
Once the food was set out and the waiters were far enough away, Craig asked,  
“Is this ‘up and coming backbencher’ Smethirst’s own publicity, or from any other source?”  
“Other sources. Probably why he’s happy to be seen helping the police anyway he can. Personal friend of the party chairman, invited out to Chequers on several occasions, the real McCoy kind of stuff.”  
“So wouldn’t look good if seen to be involved with the grubby murder of a rent boy?”  
“Definitely not. Haven’t you wondered why the press aren’t camped out on the front doorstep?”  
“It did cross my mind,” Craig replied, tucking into his curry.  
“Someone with some clout has been pulling lots of strings.”  
They applied themselves to the food, which was good and much needed.

“There’s one thing that has me puzzled,” Craig remarked later, stirring his coffee.  
“Only one?”  
“Well, one thing which doesn’t really fit. Watson’s been on the books for years, suspected of all sorts, but has always been clever enough never to get convicted. Then suddenly he does a house up West, there’s a very blurry image of him apparently being cheeky enough to leave via the front door at three in the morning and there’s DNA evidence and fingerprints all over Mr Smethirst’s study plus a very nice platinum and diamond bracelet missing and a man’s watch.”  
“Old DNA evidence.”  
“What?”  
“Shouldn’t really be saying this, but the lab says the fingerprints are old, at least a few days old. And there’s lots of both DNA and fingerprints. He’d been in that room and in the bedroom upstairs, and every other room in between, quite a few times.”  
“A sexual connection?”  
“That’s the way it’s starting to look. The receipt for the bracelet and the watch, which Smethirst said were nicked, are dated over six months ago. Smethirst reckons the bracelet was a present for Mrs Smethirt’s birthday.”  
“Could have been.”  
“Mrs Smethirt’s birthday was two months ago. He bought her a gold pendant, set with amethysts. Very nice and about an eighth of the price of the platinum bracelet.”  
They were interrupted by the waiter with their bill. Both men threw a couple of notes on the table then got up to leave in silence.  
It didn’t take long to get back to where Mickey had left his car near Craig’s front door.  
“You going to invite me in for a coffee then?” Mickey cheekily asked.  
Craig hesitated before saying,  
“Are you certain this is a good idea?”  
“Well certain,” he assured Craig, wrapping one arm around his neck and drawing him down for a kiss.

Craig couldn’t help but smile at the blissful, dopey expression on Mickey’s face as he lay in Craig’s bed. It looked like not only had DC Webb got laid tonight so had a lot of demons lurking in his psyche.  
He padded out of the bedroom across to the bathroom, collected supplies, cleaned them both up and settled for sleep.  
“You’re lovely,” Mickey murmured sleepily, turning over and cuddling up to the bigger body in the bed.  
Smiling happily Craig gathered him up comfortably and succumbed to slumber only to be wakened some hours later by Mickey sitting bolt upright in bed saying,  
“CCTV!” then groaning and doubling over.  
Craig knew about the groaning if not the CCTV bit.  
“Steady now, try and turn onto your side, there you are, bring your knees up a bit,” he instructed, rubbing one large warm hand over Mickey’s stomach and the other over the small of his back.  
“Oh Jeez!” Mickey moaned.  
“It’ll go off in a minute,” Craig assured him, still rubbing soothing circles on his stomach.  
Gradually Mickey relaxed by degrees.  
“Tell me this doesn’t happen to you every time?” he finally asked.  
“This doesn’t happen to me every time,” Craig dutifully repeated. “You’re just using muscles you haven’t used before and we were, well, a bit enthusiastic,” he said ruefully.  
“I really need a slash,” Mickey said quietly.  
“Take it steady and slow,” Craig warned him.  
Carefully Mickey went to sitting on the side of the bed, then to upright enough to get to the bathroom and back. Moving very steadily and a little more quickly he got back into bed.  
“Didn’t expect that,” he remarked.  
“Feel better now?” Craig asked, letting Mickey rest his head on the hollow of his shoulder.  
Craig felt Mickey nod his head.  
“Were you dreaming about CCTV?”  
“Sort of. I had an idea. There’s only a really blurry image of Watson on the CCTV from Smethirst’s house. I was wondering if we took CCTV from the surrounding buildings, front and back, if Watson would be on any of those. He’s been inside that house on more than one occasion; I’d stake my warrant card on it. Smethirst’s a dirty, disgusting….”  
Mickey stopped speaking and went very still.  
“Smethirst was eyeing you up?” Craig asked, catching up with Mickey’s train of thought.  
“I didn’t see it before but, yes, he was. All the time I was interviewing him with Viv, he was looking me up and down.”  
“Something more to add to his file.”  
Mickey lifted his head to look at Craig.  
“We make a bloody good team, you and me, Sarge!”  
“In more ways than one!” Craig replied shortly before Mickey started in on cementing their new team status again.

It seemed only a few minutes later when a voice was calling,  
“Craig, Craig.”  
“Mmm?”  
“Craig, I brought you a coffee. What time are you on duty? You haven’t set your alarm clock,” Mickey asked.  
Craig blearily opened his eyes to see Mickey, fully dressed, sitting on the side of the bed putting a steaming cup down on the bedside table.  
“’Time is it?” Craig asked.  
“Quarter past five. Didn’t know if you were on six two or not.”  
“Two ten today, but thanks for checking. You’re up early.” Craig took a sip of coffee and then sat up to take more, it was a good cup.  
“Breakfast meeting with Viv and probably DCI Savage as well.”  
Craig reached out and gently ran a fingertip across the blond fuzz not even visible on Mickey’s face.  
“There’s a spare razor in the bathroom cabinet.”  
“Thanks but I’ll do it later. This is where being blonde pays off, it won’t show much!”  
Craig grinned, well aware that his face would be looking very blue shadowed by now. Mickey leaned forward and kissed him sliding his arms around Craig’s broad frame. They were kissing for a long time before Mickey drew back, breathing hard and discreetly adjusting his trousers.  
“See you later,” he said softly.  
He got up and went to the door then turned around and looked back at Craig then cheekily winked at him. Craig smiled sleepily, finished his coffee, set his alarm clock then went back to sleep.  
Mickey quietly shut the front door and went towards his car. Even though it was just getting light and the day was overcast, he had a spring in his step and spring shone out of his eyes. Despite odd twinges from his abdomen he felt better and more alive than he had in months.

It appeared that Mickey’s middle of the night idea about CCTV footage had borne fruit. Every time Craig went past he could see Mickey and a couple of other DC’s methodically working their way through piles of video tapes. It would take them days to get through all that lot, Craig thought to himself.

Surprisingly, despite having had little sleep the night before, Craig slept rather badly. Mickey had wished him an exhausted goodnight before he left after working a sixteen hour shift so he didn’t expect any calls or visits. Grumpily Craig turned over in his bed again and suddenly realised what the problem was; he could still smell Mickey’s scent on the pillow. It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed with someone else and the faint scent of another body was disturbing him. Laughing softly at his own stupidity he stripped the pillowcase, threw it across the bedroom and shortly afterwards dropped into a deep sleep.

Looking through piles of blurry CCTV footage wasn’t exactly scintillating but it did provide lots of sightings of Tim Watson entering Smethirst’s London residence several times a week. Oddly enough the footage for those times on Smethirst’s cameras didn’t match. On earlier tapes there were also shots of the other murdered man, Byrne, entering and leaving the house by the back door too, plus a couple of shots of someone who could have been Haddon.  
“He turned the video off?” Friend asked.  
“Looks that way Ma’am. He only left the one with Watson leaving the building to show us, to make it look like a break-in,” Mickey replied.  
“And added to this, I think we have our connection.”  
Friend was looking at a blown-up photo of Smethirst, Byrne and Watson talking together at the edge of the shot in the far background, with two ministers in the foreground.  
“I think you have enough circumstantial evidence Viv, but we need to make sure this one will stick before we make an arrest,” Savage’s precise tones cut across Viv’s concentration.  
“Yes Sir.”  
She didn’t need to be told the repercussions of arresting a member of the serving government without sufficient evidence to charge him.  
“Webb, Rosie, check out Max Brown again, see if he hasn’t remembered where Haddon might be.”  
Mickey and Rosie departed to see Max again. As they drew near his address they could hear shouting from within. Each officer drew their asp and advanced cautiously. Nearer the shouting didn’t make much sense. Mickey signalled he would go around the back. Once in position he whispered into his radio.  
Rosie hammered on the door. When it opened and Brown saw Rosie on the step he shouted over his shoulder,  
“Cops!”  
There was a sound of running feet as whoever it was exited by the back door. Rosie reached in and efficiently caught Brown, handcuffing him to the radiator pipes before running through the house herself to assist Mickey.  
Mickey was hoisting himself to his feet, blood streaming down his face from a scalp wound, giving chase to a man who was trying to climb over the garden fence.  
“Urgent assistance required, 14 Hopcroft Road, officer injured,” she shouted into her radio whilst running down the garden. Mickey had managed to stop the man from climbing over the fence but was having trouble subduing him. The man was shouting nonsense, and struggling violently with Mickey. Mickey responded with a few punches of his own which bent the man over, taking advantage of the slight lull, Rosie slapped handcuffs on one wrist then Mickey quickly dragged the man’s other arm around a solid metal pole which was holding up the washing line. Suitably restrained the man started taking out his drugged fuelled energy on the fence and clothes post.  
Mickey leaned back against the shaking fence wiping blood out of his eyes with his hand.  
“You alright?” Rosie asked, appalled at the amount of blood flowing from her colleague’s scalp and nose.  
“Yeah, he belted me a couple of times.”  
“Is that all?” she asked, spying the cut in his shirt.  
“It’s just a scratch, he didn’t get near enough to do damage.”  
“You sure? Let me have a look.”  
“I’m alright,” Mickey replied, fending her off. “Did you get Brown?”  
“Yeah. He’s at the front door, attached to the pipes.”  
The sound of cars braking from speed told them their back-up had arrived. It took several officers to get the man, who Webb had now recognised as Haddon, into the back of a police van.  
“What the hell is he on?” Simmons yelled.  
“God knows!” Mickey replied, slamming the door on him before he could make a break for it again.

The uproar once they got him in custody had to be heard to be believed. Instead of quietening him down, the ride in the back of the police van seemed to have provided him with a new source of energy.  
“Has he been searched?” Craig shouted.  
“No Sarge, we couldn’t hold him down long enough,” Mickey yelled back from the floor, holding onto his bucking prisoner with three other brawny uniformed constables.  
“Right, get him in a cell and get his pockets emptied. Simmons get the FME in and let’s find out what he’s on.”  
At that moment Haddon got a hand free and used it to punch Mickey in the head, belting him hard enough to send his head into ringing contact with the custody desk.  
“Hold him down!” Gilmore bellowed. “Simmons, get a mattress on the floor of cell two! Mickey?”  
Shaking his head Mickey waved Craig away. Six officers manhandled Haddon into cell two and put him on the floor on the mattress. Craig followed with plastic restraint ties, small but exceedingly tough items which would restrain Haddon without the need for handcuffs. Within minutes the troop returned with Haddon’s personal belongings, which included a number of tablets in plastic bags plus what appeared to be several rocks of crack cocaine and a very nice platinum and diamond bracelet.  
“Put him on fifteen minute watch,” Gilmore ordered grimly, knowing with the amount of drugs in Haddon he could well gork at anytime. “Tell the FME to get a move on as well.”  
Mickey was seated on the bench at the back of the custody suite, with DCI Savage, DI Friend and DC MacManus all leaning over him.  
“No, I don’t want to go to hospital,” Mickey was saying, trying ineffectually to staunch the blood with a paper tissue.  
Without a word Craig retrieved the first aid kit and pushed through the group. Extracting a gauze square he handed it to Mickey.  
“Apply some pressure with that. Let’s have a look at the other side as well.”  
Gently and carefully Craig examined him, wiped excess blood off his face and what was more surprising to Savage and Friend was that Mickey let the big uniformed sergeant do that without making a fuss.  
“I think the FME should look at that cut, Mickey. It might need a stitch or two. Come on.”  
Meekly Mickey stood up with Gilmore’s assistance and was led to the medical room.  
Silently Savage raised his eyebrow at Friend who shrugged her shoulders. They had been trying, in vain, for some minutes to get DC Webb to seek medical help. Savage had been on the verge of making it an order when he had unexpectedly capitulated to Sergeant Gilmore.  
“I think I might have to borrow him to get the kids to do as they’re told,” MacManus remarked dryly looking after the retreating backs of Gilmore and Webb.

Inside the medical office, Craig was helping Mickey with his jacket then began to clean him up, wiping away the blood then, without thinking about it, undoing his shirt to get at the blood which had run down his neck, and checking the narrow red stripe across his chest. Before he knew what was happening, Mickey had pulled him close between his legs and was planting hot, hard kisses laden with adrenaline and lust all over his face and lips. It didn’t take Craig long to catch up. Guiltily they sprang apart when Craig heard the door opening to admit the doctor.  
Quickly and, he hoped, unobtrusively, brushing a hand over his swelling lips Craig mumbled,  
“Hello Dr Westfield.”  
“Hello Sergeant Gilmore. What have you got for me?”

She put butterfly closures on the scalp wound, a cold compress on the bruise and the lump on the other side of his head. Gently manipulated his nose and said it wasn’t broken then gave Mickey some painkillers and told him to go to casualty if he noticed any blurring of vision or began to vomit. Then she wrote him a sick note for three days, which he had no intention of using.

“I believe the call said there was a second patient?”  
“He’s had to be restrained in the cells. Won’t be nearly as pleasant as DC Webb. We think he’s on drugs but don’t know which ones.”  
Craig opened the door and gave orders to PC Simmons to escort Dr Westfield to Haddon. Mickey hopped off the table as Craig turned back to him.  
“When do you get off shift?” Mickey asked urgently.  
“Forty minutes, here,” Craig took a key off his key ring. “Let yourself in.” Then he was gone.

Haddon would not be fit for questioning for hours, both Craig and Mickey knew that without the added medical opinion of Dr Westfield. Finding the bracelet among his personal possessions was a bonus though, it certainly tied him in with Watson and the burglary.  
Mickey told DI Friend that the doctor had said he was OK to work. Viv Friend immediately disbelieved him.  
“I’ll get Rosie to drive you home,” she said.  
“It’s alright Ma’am. Craig said he’d drop me off, he knows where I live.”  
“Craig?”  
“Sergeant Gilmore.”  
“Oh yes, you used to work together at Sunhill,” she put in for the benefit of Malcolm Savage who was quietly listening.  
“Good work, DC Webb,” Savage said, standing up and making the most of his six feet four inch stature.  
“Thank you Sir.”  
“Now, go home and get some rest. That’s an order.”  
“But Sir, what about Brown?”  
“I’m quite certain we can find a couple of people among the rest of your team to re-interview Max Brown,” Savage replied.  
“Yes Sir,” Mickey replied, a little subdued.

Several minutes later, Savage watched through the window as Craig ushered Mickey into his car before driving off. He did silently note and store away that Craig seemed to have taken a wrong turning if he was taking Mickey home.

The journey back to Craig’s house was quiet but humming with restraint. Craig parked his car, Mickey opened the front door. Before the front door was properly closed they fell on each other, ravenous kisses and bites raining down, clothes half discarded in an attempt to reach hot and ready skin the in the shortest possible time.  
They didn’t even make it past the hallway. 

When the moans and sharp little cries of pleasure had died down and the sound of panting was slowly becoming the sound of normal breathing Craig levered himself up on one elbow and eyed his  
post-coital colleague and then the staircase. Carpet burns, he decided, were over rated. Gently he reached out to touch the red line across Mickey’s chest. A little deeper and Mickey would have had an open plan chest.  
Mickey opened his eyes and saw the fear in Craig’s. He smiled and covered Craig’s hand with his own. Reversing the hold Craig pulled him upright then upstairs, managing to do so without tripping over any undone and flapping items of clothing. 

Lying side by side across Craig’s rumpled bed, their skin shining in the faint light coming through the curtains, Craig was starting to feel a bit guilty.  
“You’ve gone quiet,” Mickey remarked without opening his eyes.  
“Still trying to get my breath back. How are you feeling?”  
“Fine!” Mickey grinned happily.  
“The doctor told you to get some rest.”  
“I’m in bed, aren’t I?”  
“I don’t think this is what she had in mind.”  
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”  
Craig started chewing at the side of his fingernail then he suddenly found his hands held above his head as Mickey threw himself onto Craig, straddling his hips and leaning down over him.  
“I’m fine. Stop worrying.” He leaned down the necessary couple of inches and kissed Craig. “Once more with feeling then I’ll let you go to sleep,” he said with a huge smile on his face.  
“What makes you think either of us will be capable of once more?” Craig asked reasonably. They hadn’t been in the least abstemious since they had entered his house a few hours ago.  
Mickey rubbed himself against Craig’s crotch.  
“That feels like someone is pretty interested,” he whispered.  
“Just very greedy,” Craig whispered back.  
“My kind of friend,” Mickey replied, reaching across Craig for the necessary supplies.

Despite exhaustion nipping at him Craig stayed awake after he had given Mickey a couple of the painkillers and put him under the duvet. He was leaning on one elbow looking down at his soundly sleeping bed partner trying to analyse what was going on. This was only supposed to have been a one-night stand, Craig helping Mickey to put away some of his nightmares. As far as that went, it seemed to have been successful. In fact, extremely successful. And today could be ascribed to adrenaline and availability. He wasn’t in love with Mickey and he was virtually certain Mickey wasn’t in love with him, there was a degree of affection between them but that was all. At least he was almost sure that was all. So why had he gotten so angry when he’d seen the damage Haddon had inflicted on Mickey?  
Simple affection for a man whose body he had shared, that was all, he told himself.  
Something else which had pleasantly surprised Craig, had been Mickey’s behaviour towards himself. He had been consistent and pleasant, before, during and after. Subconsciously Craig had been waiting for the wild recriminations which had always followed a pleasing interlude with Luke. That was unfair, he told himself, comparing Mickey to Luke. Mickey was much more adult about sex.  
Craig fell asleep still musing on his relationship with Mickey Webb.

 

“Oh come on, man, I’ve told you. Jim, he gave me the bracelet to fence for him. He was out of his mind on crack and E’s. Said he was too scared to fence it himself, said that someone was trying to kill him.”  
“And you believed him?” Viv Friend asked eyeing the thirty one year old man on the other side of the desk from her.  
“No. Well not at first. I told you, he was popped up, has been ever since Timmy died. He can’t get over it. He loved Timmy.”  
“He pimped Timmy.”  
“Nah, he didn’t pimp Timmy. Timmy pimped himself. Jim loved him. You seen Timmy?” At Viv’s nod, Brown continued, “He was really good looking, got a good body and he had the skills the men like. Jim knew where the demand was, Timmy supplied the goods. He gave Jim a cut to keep him safe when he was with a client and to keep finding good clients. No-one ever played rough with Timmy.”  
“If Timmy was making so much money why has he got a string of arrests for petty theft and burglary?”  
“That was before he got it together with Jim. They were good for each other. They helped each other out.”  
“And Timmy did all the planning?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’re asking me to believe a fifteen year old boy arranged all this?”  
“He wasn’t no fifteen year old, he was twenty-two. He just looked fifteen. His name wasn’t really Timmy either, it’s David. Timmy’s his brother, he took his birth certificate.”  
“Did you sleep with him?” Viv asked.  
Brown shook his head. “No, boys are not my scene. I like the ladies.”  
“Did Haddon sleep with him?”  
“Sometimes. He used to have Jim screaming sometimes.”  
“He was hurting him?”  
“Nah, I told you, Timmy had a good body and knew how to use it.”  
“Did Haddon say who was trying to kill him?”  
“The same ones who killed Timmy.”  
“Haddon believes Timmy didn’t overdose himself?”  
“Timmy didn’t do drugs. Would have made him look old real quick. He was vain about his looks, needed to be with his clients. All men with lots of money. That bracelet you got, one of his men friends gave him that.”  
“Do you know which one?”  
“Timmy never said. He didn’t talk about the men much.”  
“Did his clients give him a lot of presents?”  
“Some did, some didn’t. They paid him a lot of money though.”  
“So Timmy was paid a lot of money, had expensive presents given but he lived with Haddon on a house on the Coal Mill Estate. If he didn’t do drugs, what did he do with the money?”  
Brown started to laugh.  
“Timmy and Jim don’t live on the Coal Mill, Jim used the house for…. other things, Timmy sometimes stayed there when he wanted time off. Timmy’s place is up West.”  
“Address?”  
Brown thought for a minute then spieled off an address.  
“Did Timmy take his clients there?” Rosie asked.  
“Sometimes, the ones he liked, or the ones he was trying to impress.”  
“Anything else you can tell us?” Viv asked.  
Brown shook his head.  
“Interview terminated at sixteen twenty-one.”

“What do you think?” Rosie asked her boss as they left the interview room.  
“I think he’s telling the truth, or the truth as he knows it. We need to check out this address first, let’s see if Timmy, or David Watson does actually live there.”  
“Ma’am.”  
“Oh and Rosie, get that corpse finger printed and see if they match the ones on file for Timmy Watson.”

Viv collected two more members of her team and drove up to the address Brown had given them. Rosie had already arranged for the building supervisor to meet them with a key.  
Building supervisor was a bit of a misnomer, Viv thought, as she exited the car and was greeted by a man in a uniform.  
“DI Friend?”  
“Yes.”  
“I’m Philip Roberts, I run security for this building. Please come in.”  
Friend looked around the spacious lobby, noting as she did so, discreet cameras angled to catch every part of the lobby.  
“How long do you keep your surveillance tapes, Mr Roberts?”  
“They’re on a three month cycle.”  
She nodded.  
“They record twenty four seven?”  
“Yes.”  
Roberts motioned them into the lift and pressed the button for the sixth floor.  
“Did you know Mr Watson well?”  
“Not very well. He seemed a pleasant young man, kept himself very much to himself.”  
MacManus looked up and saw the unblinking eye of yet another camera in the corner.  
“Are the lift tapes on a three month cycle as well?”  
“Yes, they are.”  
“Is this the only lift for the whole building?” Viv asked.  
“No, Ma’am. There is another lift towards the back of the building which residents use if they want to bring , umm, friends in discreetly.”  
“Friends?” Viv asked.  
“Some of our residents have what one might call celebrity friends who like to sometimes stay out of the limelight.”  
Viv considered the statement as they all exited the lift. Did Roberts really mean this whole building was full of expensive toms of both sexes or were the people living here really connected to the rich and famous? Well, you would certainly need to be rich to live here, she thought.  
Roberts used his pass key to open the door of the apartment.  
Viv had to try very hard not to let her jaw drop. The place looked amazing. All clean lines, rugs over wooden floors, light wood and stainless steel shelving. A fantastic view over the rooftops of London and discrete lighting.  
“Rosie, get a forensics team in here,” Viv said sharply.  
“Ma’am.”  
“Mr Roberts, we will need to examine the building security tapes for as far back as you have them.”  
“Of course. Could I ask if your people can use the rear entrance please?”  
At Viv’s blank look he went on.  
“Our residents do like to protect their privacy, you understand. They pay a lot of money to do so.”  
“We’ll try our best,” she replied in a colourless tone.

 

By the end of day two, Mickey had a long list of names from the security tapes, including Haddon, Byrne and Smethirst. Smethirst was quite a regular visitor too.  
Some of the people he spotted using the residents lift in company with Watson had his eyebrows crawling off the top of his head. Most of them were in the public spotlight and were from all sections of society. The one thing they all had in common, apart from visiting a very beautiful young man for sexual services, was they were all well-heeled. Timmy had had a hell of a client base.  
Mickey couldn’t help an evil laugh as he spotted Smethirst, yet again, with Timmy in the lift.  
“What have you found?” Rosie asked.  
Mickey obligingly paused the tape to let her see. She grinned in appreciation.  
“Got you, you bastard,” she said softly.  
“But why kill him?” Mickey asked. “He wouldn’t lose that many votes by coming out of the closet and admitting he’s bi.”  
“Maybe it was cheaper to kill him than finish with him,” Rosie replied.

Mickey got his answer three hours later. Malcolm Savage swept into the conference room accompanied by two black suited, serious faced men, gathered his team about him and shut the door for added privacy.  
“Ladies and Gentleman whatever is said from now on stays in this room. A warrant has been issued for the arrest of Giles Smethirst, MP for the murders of David Watson and Bernard Byrne, contrary to common law. After his arrest on the charge of murder, Mr Smethirst will be handed over to these gentleman from MI5 for further questioning on a charge of treason. Copies of State Papers were found in David Watson’s flat and also the remains of other papers were found in Smethirst’s house.”  
“Smethirst’s a spy?” Mickey asked in surprise.  
“As yet the charge is not proven,” one of the men replied. “But it is certainly a possibility.”  
“James Andrew Haddon has been removed from lock-up to a safe house for his own protection,” Savage continued. “All data relating to this case will be passed over to MI5. That is all.”  
Two high spots of colour flamed on Savage’s face as he dismissed his team.  
“The boss isn’t happy,” Rosie said, sotto voce.  
“How do you know?” Mickey asked.  
“He’s got some colour in his cheeks. He’s usually fuming when that happens.”

They began to collect together all the data on the two murder cases and pack it away ready for the two men and their team to take.  
Mickey saw DI Friend storm into the room, looking as unhappy as her boss. Quickly he made his way to her side and asked very quietly,  
“Ma’am, what’s happened?”  
She breathed out heavily through her nose then looked at the two men in black by the door. Softly she started speaking,  
“Haddon started singing like a canary when he came down from the drugs. He was terrified. He demanded police protection and told us Watson and Byrne had hatched a nice little plot between them to blackmail Smethirst. Byrne already knew Smethirst had papers in his office at home he shouldn’t have. He saw them on the several occasions he slept with him. Then Byrne and Haddon introduced Smethirst to Watson. Smethirst then started using Watson on a regular basis. Watson would go into his office after he had had sex with Smethirst and take copies of any papers he had in there. They then started blackmailing Smethirst. He was paying out thousands of pounds a month to them, in addition to Watson’s fees and presents. Haddon thinks the last time was when Smethirst caught him and forced the overdose on him. Found Byrne and dealt with him the same way.”  
“Who was he giving the papers to?” Mickey asked just as quietly. “And how did he get hold of them?”  
“Not too sure to either question. But most of the papers we found dealt with National Security. Any enemy of the UK would have a use for them. And a backbencher would not have access to those kinds of documents.”  
“Hence the reason MI5 is taking over,” Mickey finished for her.  
“Go on and help pack up Mickey,” Viv said, giving him a little push. “We’ll talk later back at base.”  
“Ma’am.”

With the whole team helping it didn’t take too long to get everything packed up and shipped out then they all trooped out, leaving Viv to switch off the lights and shut the door.  
“Ma’am, I just want to say goodbye to Craig.”  
“Okay Mickey. Take your time, you’re off-duty anyway. See you tomorrow.”  
“Yeah, goodnight Ma’am.”  
Craig looked up as Mickey knocked on his door.  
“Hi Craig, just come to say goodbye,” he said, walking into the office and shutting the door behind him.  
“Goodbye? The case is solved then?”  
“Yeah, Smethirst did the murders.”  
“And?”  
“Can’t say,” Mickey replied then mouthed, ‘Tell you later.’  
Craig stood up and walked around his desk then leaned against it. Mickey came and stood between his legs, his hands resting naturally on Craig’s shoulders.  
“You busy this evening?” Mickey asked, his blue eyes very warm as he looked at Craig.  
“I wasn’t last night, or the night before that,” Craig reminded him.  
Mickey blushed as he laughed.  
“Well, don’t want to wear out my welcome.”  
“I’ll let you know if you’re in danger of doing that,” Craig replied, his expression softening.  
“Shall I cook some dinner for us? When you getting off?”  
“Waiting for some papers from Kensal Green, then I can go after that.”  
“See you back at your place,” Mickey said, leaning down for a kiss.  
“Mickey! Not here!” Craig hissed moving back, out of range.  
“There’s no-one around Craig! We’ve all gone. Give us a kiss before I go.”  
Mickey was very insistent, so, much against Craig’s better judgement, he gave in to a long, slow sensuous kiss.  
“That’ll keep me going, ‘til you get home,” Mickey said, dropping another kiss, then deciding he needed more emotional sustenance for the journey home.  
Outside in the corridor, dark eyes opened wide as a young police officer drew back into the shadows, unwilling to be seen as a witness to Craig Gilmore and Mickey Webb sharing passionate kisses in Craig’s office. His face flamed and his breathing quickened on beholding the obvious enjoyment of both men.  
“Go on,” Craig said, giving him a playful slap on the backside. “Before you get us both into trouble.”  
Mickey grinned at him then said,  
“See you later Craig.” He opened the door quickly and left the office at a fast walk planning a simple meal of steak and vegetables.  
Craig remained sitting on the end of his desk deep in thought. Mickey was a one-night stand which wouldn’t go away. Not that he was complaining but it was unexpected.  
A soft cough and a knock on the door jamb brought him back to reality.  
“The receptionist told me to bring these straight to up to you, she said you’ve been waiting for them.”  
Craig’s jaw dropped as he saw a red-faced Luke Ashton standing in the doorway.  
“You need to sign for them.”  
Craig shook himself then went and sat at his desk.  
“Yes, yes of course.”  
Craig took the proffered paper and signed it with a flourish then Luke handed over a sealed document holder.”  
“Thank you,” Craig said.  
“Was that Mickey Webb I saw leaving?” Luke asked.  
“Yes, it was. He’s been working here for a few days.”  
Luke continued to hover.  
“Was there anything else PC Ashton?”  
“You’re looking well Sarge,” Luke said softly.  
“Thank you. I couldn’t have looked much worse than the last time you saw me. It is eighteen months ago,” Craig replied coldly.  
“Are you and Mickey…..”  
Craig silently groaned and asked,  
“You saw us?”  
Miserably Luke nodded.  
“I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself,” Craig snapped. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Kensal Green?”  
Luke nodded and shuffled towards the door as Craig got up to shut it behind him. Just as he got to the door, Luke turned and stammered,  
“I w-w-anted to apologise. F-for what I did, I mean. It was wrong and I’m sorry I hurt you.”  
Craig didn’t say a word, just waited for Luke to leave his office. He was digging his nails into the palm of his hand so hard to stop himself reacting he was drawing blood. 

Luke took a look at Craig’s expressionless face and left his office.  
Thankfully Craig slammed the door shut and sank into his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and holding his head in his heads. Oh god, what a fucking mess, he thought to himself.

Luke fled the building, running out to the panda car which he had parked in the few shadows of the police compound. There he gave way and cried bitter tears of regret. Too late! He’d waited too damned long before making an effort to find Craig and now he was too bloody late!

Oblivious, Mickey picked out the ingredients for their evening meal; a couple of thick, juicy steaks, new potatoes and sweet little peas. A nice bottle of red completed his purchases.  
Waiting at the check-out he thought about the last weeks with Craig. He really, really liked Craig. OK, he admitted to himself, it was more than really liked. He didn’t put a name to the feeling but he admitted he felt happy in Craig’s company, content and relaxed except when they hit the sheets then it was wild and exciting, like champagne bubbles rushing through his blood making his whole body sing. Even that first time, when he’d near enough coerced Craig into bed with him, and he’d been scared to death deep down, Craig had made it such a wonderful, positive experience, letting him set the pace and dictate what they’d done together. He’d been such a kind, gentle, considerate and loving partner. Mickey couldn’t actually remember ever feeling like this about anyone else before.  
He smiled to himself as he thought, could this be what the other ‘L’ word felt like?


End file.
